


The 'Ring' in Purring

by LaBelladoneX



Series: Let The Story Be-gin! [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Humor, Christmas Fluff, Engagement, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 19:46:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16708876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaBelladoneX/pseuds/LaBelladoneX
Summary: AU - Another year has passed for our favourite couple and Draco has a rather important question to ask Hermione this Christmas. But things don't always go according to plan, right? He's been keeping a fairly large secret all to himself but doesn't know how to tell her. How will she react?





	The 'Ring' in Purring

**Author's Note:**

> A massive thank you to those who nominated me for this event, I am truly honoured.
> 
> Beta love to TheOtterAndTheDragon who set me on the path to Sirmione fics I may never get off! And a massive thank you to potionsmistress_934 for the amazing aesthetic.
> 
> Previously - so you don’t have to read and review the first two parts, although if you did… :)  
> Draco and Hermione work at Hogwarts - a prodigious private school in Scotland - teaching chemistry and history respectively. He’s attracted to her from the moment she joins the staff but a misunderstanding during her first staff party leaves them ignoring each other for an entire year, both pining away but too stubborn to do anything about it. They finally get the chance to reveal their feelings and admit they’re in love with each other the following Christmas (part 1) and your typical amount of smut ensues (part 2).

Life was perfect for Draco Malfoy. At twenty eight he was madly in love, healthy, and adored his job.

It couldn’t get any better.

Actually...

That French-teaching twat McLaggen could choke on his own vomit.

Other than that… perfect.

And hopefully, at some point over the Christmas holidays, Hermione Granger would agree to become his wife.

Not so perfect.

That’s where the panic set in, and he had nightmares of this perfect world crashing down around his favourite pair of Lanvin Chelsea boots.

He needed to come clean.

But what if she said no?

Definitely not perfect.

* * *

The eight hour drive from Hogwarts to Wiltshire gave Draco plenty of time to engage in some Olympic standard panicking. He stopped off at two motorway service stations on the way, only to find himself sitting in the carpark for about an hour each time, chewing his way through an entire pack of indigestion tablets and staring at the ring in his hand. 

It was a simple alexandrite stone on a narrow platinum band; Ginny had selected it from the jeweller’s website, promising Draco — over many emails, text messages, and some very long distance phone calls — that her best friend would love it. But for Draco, the Koh-I-Noor diamond wouldn’t be good enough!

So he continued to drive and panic.

Hermione Granger was it for him.  
  
But was he it for her?  
  
He really bloody hoped so.

Especially after he told her.  
  
They hadn’t had the most conventional start to their relationship; a mix-up over his mother’s fucking cat had caused her to think he hated her, but a blazing row had solved that problem when they both realised just how much they loved each other.

That Christmas was the best he’d ever experienced — most of it with no clothes on.

They’d spent New Year’s Eve in a similar state… New Year’s Day… Valentine’s Day...  
  
The Easter long weekend was spent in suburban Surrey, visiting her parents who both took an instant shine to the handsome young chemistry teacher, regaling him with endlessly funny stories about their daughter when she was younger, buck-toothed, and an insufferable know-it-all. At least, _they_ thought the anecdotes were hilarious; Hermione hid in her old bedroom, pretending she didn’t exist.  
  
Draco, however, didn’t let her down; he told his own stories about the French-teaching twat, McLaggen, and his favourite sixth year students. He even added a few self-deprecating tales about his own childhood before spilling the beans about the suspected love affair between their school’s rugby coach, Harry Potter, and his assistant, Tom Riddle.

Hermione was quick to remind them Harry was currently dating Ginny Weasley and Tom had recently started online dating, planning dinner with a tattoo artist called Bella the following weekend.  
  
But details like that just aren’t ‘gossipy’ enough, you know?  
  
By the end of the summer holidays, Draco and Hermione were already discussing moving in together. If they _did_ spend the night in each other’s rooms at the school, one of them had to leave at the crack of dawn to return to their own quarters so students — or Heaven forbid, the headmistress — wouldn’t catch them. They couldn’t share rooms at the school as an unmarried couple, so renting in the local village of Hogsmeade seemed like an obvious choice.  
  
But every time Hermione wanted to discuss finances, Draco changed the subject.

He couldn’t do that for much longer.

Now that he knew she was the one, he couldn’t keep his secret anymore.

So, by the time he arrived at his parents’ house, he was six coffees up, slightly twitchy, and in desperate need of a paper bag to breathe into.

* * *

The living room at Malfoy Manor was decked out like a scene from one of those Christmas movies Hermione absolutely adored. Draco pretended to like them, just to see the excitement in her eyes as she mouthed the words to practically every scene. Love Actually was her favourite, followed closely by It’s A Wonderful Life, The Nightmare Before Christmas, and A Muppet Christmas Carol. From one extreme to the other — a dancing British Prime Minister and a suicidal banker to a clay model skeleton and a frog with a hand up its arse.

His favourite Christmas movie was Die Hard.  
  
Narcissa breezed in just as he was reminiscing about the scene where Hans Gruber...  
  
“You look lost, darling. Is everything alright?”  
  
“Yes, of course, Mother. Just… do you think she’ll say yes?”  
  
“Of course she will,” his mother exclaimed, reaching out to hold the hands of her only son. “Hermione loves you, Draco. Anyone can see how happy the two of you are. Why do you think she’d say no?”  
  
“I can’t help it,” he murmured. “What if—”  
  
“Draco Lucius Malfoy, you stop that nonsense right now. That woman loves you and she will say yes!”  
  
“But, Mum—”  
  
Narcissa paused. His tone reminded her just how vulnerable he was — how nervous. Draco hadn’t called her ‘Mum’ since he’d had Chicken Pox when he was nine.

"Why do you think she won’t say yes to you? Is something wrong, Draco?”  
  
He sighed heavily, sitting down on the couch and indicating for his mother to join him. She said nothing, lowering herself gracefully to the seat and waiting patiently for Draco to speak. He leaned forward with his head down, running his fingers back through his silky blond hair.  
  
“I only told her a little about our family.”  
  
Narcissa frowned. “What’s wrong with us?”  
  
“There’s nothing wrong with us… per se. It’s… well… she’s never been _here_ . You’ve only met her at the townhouse, she has no clue about the Manor, the business, investments… she only knows we’re _comfortable_ , just not exactly how much.”  
  
“Draco,” Narcissa began, “you’ll have to be honest with her. You can’t start off a life together with secrets. She’d never forgive you! And I really don’t think Hermione is going to mind—”  
  
“But that’s just it, Mother,” he exclaimed, standing up abruptly, “she will mind! She votes left, she’s an advocate for the little people — her words, not mine. Hermione believes in equality and… rights… lots and lots of rights. How is she going to react when I tell her exactly how much I have in my bank account? Or what about when it’s time for me to take over from Father?”  
  
“Draco, you need to have some faith in that girl. If she truly loves you, she won’t care. Just as you don’t care that her background is different—”  
  
“Do _you_ have a problem with it?”  
  
“Don’t you dare!” His mother hissed. “I don’t give a damn how and where she was reared. I love her like a daughter already, so does your father. Now, you get right back to Hogwarts and start talking!”  
  
He made his way towards the fireplace to collect his car keys and wallet. So much for staying over a few days.    
  
“Actually, don’t do that.” Narcissa made her way towards the door. “Call her. Invite Hermione _here_ for the holidays instead of travelling back up to that godforsaken wind trap. Stay over Christmas and let her… adjust. I’ll get everything ready. You’ll have a few days to clear the air with her and then you can propose.”

* * *

“I had planned to visit Aunt Molly and Uncle Arthur this Christmas Eve, Draco, and I thought we were just having a quiet Christmas at the school,” Hermione replied to his request, the phone jammed between her ear and shoulder as she tidied her desk. “I don’t want to sound horrible but your family’s house in London is a bit… austere, you know? I don’t think it’ll be very festive.”  
  
“Well, they suggested their… other house for Christmas.” Draco winced. “It’s in Wiltshire.”  
  
“Oh, I didn’t know they had another place. I always wanted a place in Cornwall or Devon. Near Aunt Molly and Uncle Arthur, you know? Is it a holiday cottage?”  
  
“Bit bigger - couple of extra bedrooms.”  
  
Hermione adored Narcissa and Lucius, already treating them as family. They were a bit ‘posher’ than she’d expected when she’d met them first, but she soon discovered Narcissa’s wicked sense of humour and a loveable rogue underneath Lucius’ Darcy-esque qualities. She secretly hoped that they’d always be part of her life.

Aunt Molly and Uncle Arthur were disappointed; at least they pretended to be, having heard about Draco’s plan in an earlier phone call.

Next was Ginny; Draco had emailed her, not having a clue where she’d be as she toured the world writing for various travel magazines. She was actually in the process of catching two planes, a bus, three trains, and a lift from some dodgy looking pig farmer in her quest to get home for Christmas so she could spend some time with Harry and visit the Manor to celebrate her best friend’s engagement.

When he’d outlined his plan to propose to Hermione in his message, Ginny had called him immediately, screaming down the phone and demanding the jeweller’s website address so she could have a say in what Hermione’s ring would look like.

Unfortunately, if Ginny was coming to Malfoy Manor, that meant Potter would be tagging along as well. Still, _if_ Hermione said yes, it’d be worth putting up with him for a few hours outside of school. Wouldn’t it?

* * *

Narcissa and the housekeeping staff had done themselves proud; the drawing room was absolutely perfect. Mistletoe hung from the chandeliers with garlands of holly and seasonal berries adorning the fireplace and windows. The Christmas tree was nearly nine feet high, glittering in green and silver hues with the cutest fairy decorations hanging from a multitude of branches. Right in the middle, for everyone to see, was a battered looking paper plate with faded writing and spots of silver glitter. The childish writing read ‘Hapee Chrismus, Mum and Dad, Lov, Draco, age 7’. Every year it took pride of place on the tree and brought a tear to Narcissa’s eye. Lucius would quirk an eyebrow and call her soft, but she’d caught him smiling warmly many times at the old decoration.  
  
But the highlight was through the French doors, down the swirling stone steps leading to the rose garden. There, surrounding the water feature which depicted a mythical phoenix with its wings aloft, was a large sleigh glittering in the reds and greens of the season and full to the top with imitation presents. Led by a mechanical reindeer with a twinkling red nose, the sleigh moved silently as tiny elves whirred in and out of little wooden chalets and danced to the tunes of well known Christmas songs.  
  
“Hermione will love it,” Draco whispered, walking slowly down the steps, taking everything in.  
  
“Perhaps you’d like some privacy when you propose, Draco,” Narcissa commented behind him. “Your father asked me to marry him beside that water feature.”  
  
“Didn’t one of the peacocks bite him on the arse when he went down on one knee, and he landed in the fountain?”  
  
“Who told you that?”  
  
“Arabella Figg, when I was about ten.”  
  
“Yes, well, I didn’t approve of her as your governess but your grandmother insisted. And you didn’t say no to Varaminta Malfoy,” Narcissa huffed uncharacteristically.

“You still said _yes_ to Father, though,” Draco smiled.  
  
“Of course I said yes,” she laughed. “I was so in love—”  
  
“And I with you, my darling.” Lucius Malfoy walked up to his wife, embracing her lovingly.

“Ugh,” Draco rolled his eyes, “please.”  
  
Lucius laughed. “Don’t let that girl go, Draco. Even if she runs when she realises what we are and what we have, do _not_ lose her.”  
  
“I won’t,” their only son replied, “I promise.”

* * *

Hermione travelled down by train from Hogsmeade a few days later, grinning from ear to ear at the sight of her handsome boyfriend standing on the platform.

“God, I missed you,” she sighed, relieved to be in his arms again.

Draco murmured against her cheek, “You’re here now.”

“Right where I belong.”

He couldn’t answer. A sudden lump in Draco’s throat stopped him from throwing himself at her mercy and spilling his secrets all over the train tracks.

Passengers moved to and fro around them, going about their daily lives while time stood still for the couple holding each other. Eventually Hermione had to maneuver herself out of Draco’s arms and suggest they leave the train station — she was starving after her journey and public transport sweet trollies were not exactly up to scratch.

She didn’t comment on his reluctant expression but it certainly didn’t go unnoticed.

“The… eh… house is only a mile and a half away,” Draco remarked as they left the station, taking Hermione’s suitcase from her. “I walked down since it’s quite mild.”

He was known for having a rather fast stride but this short walk was certainly turning out to be a bit of a struggle as he practically dragged his feet along the laneway leading up to the gates of his family home.

Hermione frowned to herself but said nothing, opting instead to fill him in on the last few days at Hogwarts and how her family were keeping.

“... and my cousin’s wife had her baby. Eric’s wife, remember her? The hippy with the funny name? They had a baby girl, Primrose Alabama Sunset O’Toole.”

“Mm-hmm.” Draco stared at the gravelled path as he walked.

“Tom and Bella are an item now. She’s giving up the tattoo studio, studying to become an engraver.”

“That’s nice.”

“Aunt Molly is pregnant again. Triplets.”

“Lovely.”

“DRACO!”

“Hmm?”

“What the hell?” Hermione stopped walking, her hands firmly on her hips. “Didn’t you hear me? I told you Aunt Molly’s expecting triplets!”

“Isn’t she?”

“She’s sixty eight!”

“Oh, yeah, sorry.”

“Right, I’m not moving one more inch until you tell me what’s going on!” The Granger Glower was out in full force.

Draco chewed his lip for a few moments, reluctantly accepting that it was now or never. Slowly, he put Hermione’s suitcase down on the ground, raising his arms to link his fingers around the back of his head.

“Hermione,” he sighed heavily, blowing out a strained breath, “my family home is around the corner. It’s… well… it’s big. Bigger than a holiday home actually.”

“Okay,” she replied curiously, “so what are we talking about? Six bedrooms and a jacuzzi?”

“Thirty five and a private spa.”

Hermione burst out laughing. “Yeah, right, Malfoy. Hilarious.”

Draco took a deep breath, picked up her suitcase, and took Hermione’s hand as he began walking again towards the point of no return.

“Stables, servants’ quarters, gym, fencing salle, and award-winning gardens that are open to the public during the summer months.”

As he finished talking, they stopped outside large iron gates engraved with the Malfoy crest Hermione recognised from Narcissa’s stationery. She’d automatically assumed Draco’s mother had ordered the headed paper from one of those online shops - five hundred pages for a tenner plus a free mug.

But, as the imposing presence of the Jacobethan architecture loomed before her, Hermione had the strangest notion that perhaps the gold-trimmed stationery really was _gold_ -trimmed after all.

She opened and closed her mouth a few times, still standing in the one spot despite the gates opening automatically as if to welcome her.

“Draco…” she whispered, “if I were to ask you how much was in your bank account right now, it wouldn’t be less than fifty quid, would it?”  
  
He shook his head slowly, dreading this moment but knowing it was inevitable.

“Just because you spend your entire wages on books, cat food, and more books, doesn’t mean I do, Hermione,” he tried to laugh, failing miserably. “Look… I… eh… I knew I’d have to explain this at some stage but… I have a trust fund, shares in my father’s company — which will eventually become mine — a few properties that are leased out, and my own wages from Hogwarts. _They_ go straight to various charities, I promise. Eh… hang on…”  
  
Draco reached for his mobile phone, opening up the Gringotts app. Pressing a few numbers and scrolling down the screen, a bank balance appeared as he turned the phone towards Hermione.  
  
One currency symbol, two commas, one decimal point… and ten numbers.  
  
She screamed so loudly, Narcissa, Lucius, and most of the housekeeping staff came running as she passed out at Draco’s feet.

* * *

Hermione woke up to the feeling she was choking on her own hair. She kept her eyes closed, wondering why her face was being tickled by something furry. A soft miaow near her ear and the sensation of tiny paws padding around beside her head offered some explanation, but it took a few moments to understand what was going on.

Oh, yeah. She’d passed out.

On gravel.

So why was she lying on something so luxuriously soft and comfortable?

Before she could raise her head to assess her surroundings, Hermione heard the whispers of two people deep in conversation.

“You don’t _know_ that, Draco.”

“But you should have seen her face, Mum. She nearly—”

“I’m sure she just got a fright, son. It’s the first time she’s seen the Manor and it’s not exactly your average semi-detached. Just let her come to and we’ll deal with her reaction then, alright?”

A heavy sigh. “Fair enough, Father. Thanks.”

“It’ll be fine, my darling. Your father is correct; you can’t assume anything. Remember what ‘assume’ does?”

“Okay, Mum. Yeah.”

Hermione lifted herself gingerly from what turned out to be a chaise longue in deep emerald green velvet, although most of it was now covered in white cat hair.

“Draco?” She called softly, wincing at the aches that shot through her body. “What happened?”

“Oh, my goodness!” Narcissa moved quickly towards the chaise. “Get off that, get off _at once!”_

The sight of Draco’s mother making a beeline in her direction with fury on her usually good-natured and elegant features caused Hermione to turn quickly, landing in a heap on the floor.

“What the… _oh, my god_ , Hermione,” Narcissa cried, “no, no, no, I’m so sorry! Get away from the chaise, Sybil, right _now!”_

A rather miffed miaow followed her owner’s chastisement as the cat’s soft paws thudded onto the parquet tiles. Hermione looked up at Narcissa in utter bewilderment.

“Narcissa? What happened?”

“Oh, my dear,” the older women dropped to her knees in a most un-Narcissa-like way, “you fainted outside, and Draco carried you in here. You might have bumped your head. How are you feeling, darling?”

“I fainted? Why… did I…”

A slight cough cut her off. “I showed you my bank balance, Hermione.”

Whatever blood was returning to her face threatened to vacate the area again pretty rapidly.

“Oh… yeah…” It took Hermione a moment to catch up. _“OH!”_

Draco’s worried face came into view, his father standing beside him. He took a deep breath and fisted his hands before speaking again.

“Hermione, allow me to formally present my parents, the Viscount and Viscountess of Wiltshire, Lord Lucius and Lady Narcissa Malfoy. My father is a peer and Chief Executive of Abraxas Investments. My mother sits on the boards of several charities — including Save the Weasel, one of your favourites — and is also a member of Hogwarts’ Board of Management. To top it all, my full title is The Honourable Draco Lucius Malfoy and I will inherit Father’s titles and positions when he… eh… dies.”

“Bloody hell, Draco, I’ve just turned fifty five! I’m not going anywhere soon. Hermione, my dear, how are you feeling?”

Lucius looked down at Hermione who was still sprawled on the floor, Narcissa at her side.

“I’m fine, Lucius. How are you?”

It couldn’t get more surreal.

“Splendid, thank you. Welcome to Malfoy Manor. Tea?”

“Em… yes, please.”

“Draco,” Lucius clapped his son on the back, “call for tea, will you? Hermione looks like she could murder a cup.”

* * *

A few hours later, Hermione was sitting in a plush wing-back chair by the roaring fireplace in the Manor’s library. Draco sat opposite, answering her many questions patiently while cradling a large glass of Merlot in his hands.

“So…” she continued, “just to be clear. Lucius owns Abraxas Investments; that’s the largest investment company in the country, isn’t it?”

“Second,” Draco replied. “The largest is owned by the royal family, they’ve a bit more money than us.”

He tried to smile but it appeared more like a grimace.

“And the properties you own as a family include Hogwarts itself, most of the village beside it, the townhouse in London, a shopping centre in Manchester, and a League Division Football club. Is that it?”

“They’re hoping to be promoted to The Championship at the end of the season,” he mumbled.

“Brilliant. And you’re a teacher because…”

“Chemistry is more of a passion, to be honest. And I wanted a quiet life for a while before I take over… everything… Hermione,” Draco leaned forward, placing his wine glass down on the coffee table beside his chair, “I didn’t tell you any of this when we met because… I fell in love with _you_ . I wanted you to fall in love with _me_ — just me — not my title, my position, my inheritance. I just wanted to be treated like everyone else, and the more we fell in love the more I didn’t want you to know in case—”

“In case I’d leave you,” she continued for him. “Did you not think that I wouldn’t mind?”

“You fainted when you saw my bank balance!”

“Draco, I’ve less than two hundred quid in my bank account because — as usual — I went overboard buying Christmas presents. There’s about five thousand in a savings account and whatever’s in my pension fund. I didn’t expect to see a bank account that had over ten million pounds in it _ever!_ So forgive me if I couldn’t handle it!”

“But could you? _Could_ you handle it?” His question was urgent and full of unease.

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head as Draco’s heart pounded in his chest.

“I… I guess so, Draco. It’s a lot to take in, and you should have confided in me. But I think I can understand why you didn’t.”

She also lowered her glass and moved to kneel in front of him, placing her hands on the armrests at either side of him.

“I love you, your highness.” He laughed softly at her ice-breaker. “To me, you’re just Draco, the man I fell in love with and keep falling in love with more and more each day. That’s all you’ll ever be to me.”

She reached up and kissed him tenderly, brushing her lips softly against his own. He closed his eyes, savouring the feel of her caress, knowing it was her touch that kept him alive.  

“Marry me.”

Hermione sat back on her heels abruptly. “P-pardon?”

“You’re the reason I wake up every morning,” he smiled, cupping her face gently in his hands. “You’re the last thing I think about every night. I don’t want to spend another moment as your boyfriend, partner, lover… whatever you call me. I want to be your husband. I _want_ you to be my wife. So, Hermione Jean Granger, will you marry me?”

His thumbs softly wiped away her tears as she stared back, momentarily speechless.

Draco smiled, his eyes shining with unshed emotions. “Oh, shit… wait here.”

He planted a quick kiss on her forehead and jumped up, moving over to the other side of the library and reaching up to the shelf where he kept his favourite book.

“I’ve had this for a few weeks,” he commented, walking back towards her, “Ginny helped me pick it out. I could have presented you with one of the Malfoy pieces, but I wanted something that reminds me of you — a complete breath of fresh air.”

Draco opened the box, holding it out in front of him and waiting for Hermione’s reaction. A moment went by, and all that registered on her face was a slightly puzzled frown.

His heart plummeted; she didn’t like the ring, hated it even. _Fuck!_ He was going to string Ginny Weasley up by her fucking freckles and make sure he was there to pick out the gaudiest, most tackiest, piece of cubic zirconia _tat_ when Potter eventually grew the balls to propose.

“Draco?” Hermione looked up, “Where’s the ring?”

Did he hear her right? _“What?”_

He turned the box in his hand, immediately noticing the little square cushion and nothing else. For a moment Draco couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. His mouth opened and closed, his eyes blinked, his hand shook, but there were no words. Nothing.

The deathly quiet was eventually broken by Narcissa walking in, her fingers closing a diamond bracelet around her wrist.

“Darling, have you seen my diamond earrings that match this bracelet? I can’t find them anywhere. I just hope Sybil hasn’t taken them, you know how she hoards shiny baubles.”

A roar like nothing ever heard before in Malfoy Manor crashed through the building. The delicate ring box was thrown on the ground as Draco ran out of the library, smashing the door against the wall, and screaming blue murder.

Hermione and Narcissa just stared at the dent in the wall left behind by the door.

“What the bloody hell happened here?”

Neither woman could answer Lucius as he came dashing in, ready to fight any intruder who threatened his home, an ornate cane in his hand.

“Draco… p-proposed,” Hermione managed to get the words out.

“And what? Did you say no?” Lucius looked aghast.

“No, no, I… I was going to say yes, but…” Hermione took a deep breath and calmed herself. “There was no ring in the box and—”

“That bloody animal!” Lucius cried, “I told you to stop buying her bloody shiny things, Narcissa. If she’s eaten that ring…”

“Oh, Lucius, don’t be silly,” his wife chastised him, “she’ll only have hidden it somewhere.”

Hermione breathed only a small sigh of relief, not at all relishing the idea of having to clean cat shite off an engagement ring.

Another roar had the three of them running towards the living room, where they discovered the French doors wide open and an almighty commotion going on outside.

Draco was on top of the sleigh, going around in circles, firing the imitation gifts all around the water feature and knocking over various dancing elves in his frantic attempt to grab hold of Sybil’s collar and yank the cat away from where she was obviously trying to protect her shiny stash of stolen trinkets. She hissed and scratched viciously, her white fur blowing in the cool breeze as she struggled to reach her treasure first.

Elves were going down like bowling pins; the reindeer was on its side, it’s twinkly red nose now a dead brown. The music screeched and wailed, grinding to an ear-splitting halt, but nothing would deter Draco as he flung boxes and electrics around him like a man under some kind of curse.

“YOU FUCKING LITTLE _BITCH_ … I’LL FUCKING… ARGH!”

Blood was pouring from a scratch along his cheek and his hands were cut to shreds as he shoved a box in front of Sybil and reached the small pile of stolen trinkets before her. There, on top of a mess of necklaces, bracelets, and — _a silver vibrator?_ _Handcuffs?_ — was the ring he wanted Hermione to wear for life.

Draco stood triumphant until Sybil decided to seek revenge, launching herself at his chest and knocking him back into the water feature.

Narcissa screamed, running down the stone steps with Hermione right behind her. Lucius couldn’t move for fear of… well, you know what happens when you laugh too hard at that age.

Draco stumbled out of the freezing water, spluttering and cursing the bloody cat from one end of Wiltshire to the other. But the sight of both his mother and the woman he adored trying not to laugh as he held aloft the engagement ring like a trophy had him smiling like a Cheshire cat instead.

“Can I ask you again?” he panted at Hermione.

“Yes, please,” she grinned, moving towards him.

And there — as he shivered violently and dripped water all over her shoes — Draco Malfoy bent on one knee and asked Hermione Granger to marry him.

She was about to answer when a peacock appeared out of nowhere…

* * *

“So this is the cat that seems to have it in for us.”

Sybil looked Hermione up and down as if deciding whether or not the visitor was worthy of her time. Narcissa always reckoned the animal was a reincarnation of her mother-in-law.

Draco muttered viciously, “Little—”  
  
“She loves shiny things,” Narcissa interrupted, leaning over to caress the back of the cat’s ears, “hence the ridiculously expensive collar. She’s my little weakness, aren’t you, Sybil?”

“I used to be her weakness,” Lucius grumbled into his scotch.

“And she adores my jewellery, don’t you, darling? She’s always trying to get into my dressing room,” Narcissa continued, blatantly ignoring her husband and son. “My Louboutin silver pumps were chewed to pieces earlier this month, luckily Christian could get me a second pair quickly. I needed them to match an outfit in a hurry!”  
  
Hermione gulped. She also had a pair of silver pumps to match an outfit; _they_ were found in a Primark bargain bin.

“Anyway, tonight isn’t about Sybil, it’s about you two.” Narcissa announced, standing up to join Lucius by the Christmas tree where both of them raised their glasses to their son and his future bride. “To family.”

Draco turned to Hermione, his eyes flickering over the ring on her finger before looking up. She was the most precious thing in the world to him, there was no doubt.

“Family,” he whispered.

Hermione smiled, the joy in her eyes sparkling without hesitation.

“Family,” she replied.

_Fin_

**Author's Note:**

> No cats were harmed during the writing of this story.


End file.
